


Slivers of Hope: Second Apocalypse

by VictimofNostalgia



Series: Hope and the Horsemens' Epic Apocalyptic Roadtrip [5]
Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: BUT I LOVE THEM, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Gen, Sequel, What a dysfunctional family, apocalyptic road trip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictimofNostalgia/pseuds/VictimofNostalgia
Summary: Five years have past since the armies of darkness have scattered with the defeat of the Destroyer. Humanity recovers, slowly but surely within the safety of their bastions, but stirrings in the wastelands warn that the storm is not yet over. Demons prepare their final assault, and the Horsemen, and their Human companion Hope, must ride out to stop them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Title: Hope's Epic Apocalyptic Road Trip
> 
> ~Surprise. Remember when I finished Slivers of Hope and talked about wanting to do a sequel? Well, here's where it starts. All of the love and positive feedback from everyone who read my first fic has motivated me to do it again! I couldn't just leave this world and these characters hanging; they've just become too much fun to just forget, and I really hope you all feel the same!
> 
> Just as a word of warning though, this is really my first time writing a fan fiction that didn't already have a base within canon, and while I have a pretty good idea of what I want to happen in this, it will most likely be a very slow process. But, if any of you out there would be willing to help, we could make this go a lot smoother! I'm in search of a Beta reader, or at least someone I could bounce ideas off of! If you would be interested, shoot me a message, I could really use a hand making this fic a reality! Thanks for all of the support so far and I hope you enjoy this first chapter of Slivers of Hope: Second Apocalypse!

Amidst the smoldering ruins of Earth, Humanity awoke. They picked themselves off the pavement, blinking blearily at a world that they barely recognized. It was a world ravaged and torn, turned to ash by monsters once thought to be only myth. Frightened, Humanity huddled together in what bastions they could find, holding against the demons that prowled the land still, left without direction as the corpses of their generals slowly rotted away in their forsaken citadels.

Desperate weeks turned to determined months of gathering resources and allies, pushing back against the beasts that tried still to take back the world they had once conquered. Humanity proved adaptable however, and the hosts of Hell found them firmly entrenched back in their cities, dug in like the roots of a particularly stubborn flower.

The demons were surprised by their persistence. As were the four horsemen who watched over the shattered world from the backs of their unearthly steeds. Since the fall of the Destroyer they had remained in the Third Kingdom, methodically hunting down the remnants of the Red Army they came across in search of greater prey. True, the generals were no more, but their ultimate commander had yet to show his face. So long as he lingered, Humanity was still in peril. Despite their ingenuity and tenacity, mere mortals could never hope to hold against the true might of Hell.

Atop a hill, the four gazed upon the bloody glow of the construction slowly rising from the blighted earth, swarmed over by demons that built it ever higher. For some days they had come across many such structures. Something was brewing beyond the horizon, and it couldn't be said if Humanity could survive another Apocalypse.

One of the horseman, a slender feminine form astride a huge black horse, shifted in her saddle. "Should we go and tell her?" she asked, never taking her eyes off the stream of demons down below.

A second answered her with a raspy sigh. His horse, an enormous half-rotted creature of bone and mottled flesh, shifted uneasily beneath him. "Yes, I suppose we should," he replied.

" _Must_ we?" the third asked, voice tinny and skeptical behind the slits of a helm. "I don't see a reason why we need to involve her further."

The second snorted derisively and shot his companion a look over an ash colored shoulder. "Regardless of your personal feelings humanity must be warned of the coming storm. And I can think of no one better to pass along the message."

The third huffed but said no more, which the second was content to take as a begrudging agreement.

The fourth, who until then had remained silent, gave a grunt and steered his huge steed around to descend the opposite side of the hill. The beast's hooves seared black prints into the parched grass. "Either way, there's no point in staying here," he said gruffly. "If we're not moving we're wasting time."

The first watched him go with a gentle shake of her head. "Ah, just like old times," she sighed with mock wistfulness before she kicked her heels into her steed's sides and followed after him.

The second chuckled and tugged on his own reins. "Isn't it though?" he said, leading his horse after his companions.

The third lingered for a moment longer. No one was close enough to see him role his eyes behind his visor, or to hear him mutter, "Why do I even bother?" before he too turned his horse and left the demons to their work.

Dawn was just beginning peak over the horizon and chase the stars away. No one was awake to see the four massive, monstrous horses being led down the street by their equally terrifying riders.

Death led the way past the little cobbled-together houses that lined the streets, searching for the one that belonged to the horsemens' one time human companion. Hope's home wasn't too hard to find however; it was the only little matchbox house being guarded by a small murder of crows. The black birds sat in a nearby tree and stared down with beady, watchful eyes. One let out a warning call as the four dismounted and came forward. Dust, the big mangy crow perched on one of Death's shoulders, answered back with a raspy croak. The birds, recognizing a fellow, settled back and ruffled their feathers. A couple of them took off from their perches and fluttered to a window sill, tapping on the glass with their beaks.

Death took this as approval and made his way to the front door, gave it a light wrap with his knuckles, and stood back to wait. It took a few minutes, wherein he could hear the faint sounds of movement and muffled cursing from beyond the flimsy wooden door, but eventually it opened a crack, a bleary blue eye peaking wearily out from inside the house. It widened briefly at the sight of the horsemen before its owner let out a sharp sigh and the door was pulled the rest of the way open.

Hope, standing in rumpled pajamas, one hand around the handle of an aluminum baseball bat and the other roughly rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Jesus, I _really_ hoped the crows were kidding," she mumbled, running a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. She shot Death a tired glare. "You do know that it's like, four in the morning, right?"

"Well, good morning to you too, Sunshine," Strife called from further back. Hope sneered at him, but Death interrupted before it could turn into their usual bout of insults.

"Would you rather we come strolling down the street in broad daylight for everyone to see?" Death asked back, hands on his hips.

Hope blinked sluggishly up at him a couple times. "Yeah, okay, fair point," she conceded. "But for God's sake, get in here before someone _does_ see you."

Death watched her shuffle back into her tiny home, stretching as she yawned. She'd changed since last he saw her; compared to the frightened, twitchy, filthy Hope he'd met all those years ago, this Hope looked as though she actually took care of herself, maybe took a shower once in a while and stopped cutting her own hair with a dull knife. She'd even put on some muscle, stretching and flexing across her back and shoulders as she reached her arms over her head. Dust fluttered over to her shoulder and was greeted with a few exasperated scratches.

"Good to see you too Dust," she said, leaning against the small countertop of her tiny kitchen as the Horsemen filed in, looking comically enormous in the confines of her living room.

"I'd offer to make you guys some coffee but I haven't been able to get my hands on any for a few months. Which is a pity because _god_ could I use some-" She was cut off by a loud screeching sound as War forced himself through the door, the sharp edges of his armor scrapping deep grooves into the wood. Hope visibly winced and opened her mouth to snap at him, but upon catching War's flat, pale glare, as though just daring her to say something, she clenched her jaw and wisely held her tongue. "But I'm guessing you didn't just come to chat," she said instead.

Strife scoffed from where he had settled into one of her ratty sofas, his feet up on the coffee table. "As though you'd be worth the effort."

"Oh, I'm sorry Strife, I didn't mean to accuse you of something like common decency," she spat back just as quickly. Strife's eyes narrowed behind his visor, but once again Death stepped in to keep the two of them from going at it.

"Yes, I'm afraid this is far from a simple friendly visit," he said, folding his arms across his chest and fixing Hope with a steady gaze.

"We've come to warn you," Fury added from Death's side.

"Warn me?" Hope echoed. "About what?"

"The Horde is moving," said War, "Rebuilding their citadels from which they'll launch their final assaults to take back what humanity took from them."

Hope went very still. "...What?" she asked in a small voice.

"We believe they're trying to reestablish a chain of command," Death continued for his brother. "War tore down their previous generals and demons aren't good for much without a greater mind behind them. It seems as though they're finally ready to move again."

"Than why haven't you gone after them yet?" she growled, knuckles turning white as she dug her nails into the back of the sofa.

"Because they aren't here yet," Strife said. "The little ones don't count in this case. We have to wait for the head to show itself before we can cut it off."

"And we will _have_ to cut it off," Fury added. "Simply stopping them from coming won't deter them for long. The Horde needs to be _dismantled_ before it will stop."

" _Shit_ ," Hope muttered, unclenching her fingers to start picking nervously at her nails. She still had yet to kick the habit apparently. "Just when I thought... _shit_." She curled her hands into fists and forced herself to take a deep breath. "So, what happens now?"

"Now _we_ go to war and _you_ spread the word for everyone to batten down the hatches," Fury replied.

" _Me?_ Why me?"

"Because," Death answered, "it stands to reason that humans would be much more inclined to listen to one of their own than they would to us."

Hope sighed, rubbing at her forehead. "Yeah, alright, I can buy that. Still, getting to word out to everyone isn't going to be easy."

"And why is that?"

"Because we're sort of everywhere? And global communication isn't really a thing anymore. The best we have are radio towers and the range on those aren't very good. Look," she moved over to an overstuffed bookcase, rifling through loose papers and tattered books before she found what she was looking for. Pulling out a small square of paper she set about unfolding it, again and again until it was three feet long and nearly as tall. She crossed over to the coffee table.

"Move, jackass," she growled, planting her foot against Strife's stacked ankles and roughly shoving to get his boots off the tabletop. She ignored any comeback he would have thrown her way and slammed the paper onto the table, now revealed as a huge weathered map, the ink worn away in the creases. It was clustered with dots of varying sizes, all connected by lines representing what had once been major roads. There were also circles drawn in red pen in various places, accompanied by scrawlings of numbers and words.

"We're here," she said, pointing to a large cluster in the northeastern corner of the map, "and allllll of these," she spread her fingers over the smaller red circles scattered across the landscape for miles, "are Safe Houses. They're like refugee camps. It's dangerous for people to move into the cities from the country so these have been set up everywhere to give people a safe place to hunker down. But if something's big is gonna happen out there, they won't be safe for long. They're built to stand up to a few demons but there's no way they're last against an entire invasion. They need to be warned so they can get out of the line of fire."

"What would that entail?" Fury asked, leaning in to study the map.

"Time, mostly," Hope replied. "And a clear path out to the cities if possible. It'll be tough trying to convince everyone to leave and go somewhere safer, but like hell am I going to let them stay and get slaughtered."

"You speak like you're going to convince them yourself," Strife quipped.

"That's because I am," she said, slowly as though explaining it to a child.

"I don't think that's-" Death began but Hope cut him off with a raised hand.

"Didn't you _just_ say that I was the one you were trusting with this?"

She took the answering snort as a 'yes'.

"Right, so, you can trust me when I say that this'll be the best way to do it. They have to hear it from me because no one else knows what I know."

Death hated to admit it, but she was right. Anyone could claim to have been audience to the breadth of the conflict that destroyed their world, but Hope had gotten out of her seat and poked around behind the curtain. If they didn't believe her they were at best in denial and at worst suicidal.

"It will be dangerous... moreso than anything you experienced the first time," he told her.

"Than I guess its a good thing that I've got four giant harbingers of death and destruction to give me a leg up," she said, crossing her arms and meeting his gaze quite evenly.

"You _can't_ be serious," Strife drawled, and Hope pinned him with a disdainful glare.

"Can't I?" she snapped. "How else am I supposed to get where I need to go? I wouldn't be able to hold my own out there for long, never mind trying to clear the way for people to get out. Look, I just need to get from one place to the next without dying, and the four of you can cause as much carnage as you want along the way."

War's face twitched in something that could almost be called a smirk. "Carnage will come aplenty once the demons catch on to our plan. You're pitting yourself against all the forces of Hell," he said.

Hope gave him a grim smile. "Let 'em try. I've got a hundred year's worth of pent-up rage for them. I want to see 'em _bleed_."

The great red cowl dipped in the most imperceptible of impressed nods. "And bleed they shall," he told her. "Their punishment is a long time coming."

Once again Death found himself ever so slightly baffled. For Hope and War to have found kindred spirits within each other was both astounding and strangely understandable. If his youngest brother was content to share his revenge with a young human woman, than who was he to argue? Not as though either of them would listen anyway.

"When can you leave?" Fury asked, clearly coming to the same conclusion. Hope settled back, tapping a finger against her arm.

"Give me 24 hours to get my shit together; there are a few things I have to do first. Come back same time tomorrow and I'll be ready," she said.

"It's a plan then," Death said, striding over and placing a hand on her shoulder, "so long as you're sure this is what you want. There is no shame in staying here."

She looked him square in the eye and he knew even before she spoke that she had made up her mind. "I'm sure," she said firmly. Death gave a small nod.

"So be it then. 24 hours. Then, the hunt begins."

Once the Horsemen were gone (after a another brief argument between War's armor and the door frame that the door frame lost by a wide margin) Hope let out a shaky breath, sinking slowly into the cushions of the sofa. Once again she could feel the world being yanked out from beneath her feet. But, she reminded herself, this time it would be under _her_ terms.

The thought of sitting back and letting her home be taken from her a second time made her blood boil. Not again. Never again. Even without the Horsemen she would have fought tooth and nail, until she couldn't fight anymore, to protect what tentative safety humanity had won back.

It didn't make her decision any less daunting. She knew War was right, that every spawn of the Pit would try and stand in her way and that she amounted to little more than a pest in their eyes. She was, as she had always been, only human.

But she was a human who had lived through one apocalypse and damn if she didn't feel like living through another.

The following 24 hours were a whirlwind of preparations that passed far faster than Hope liked. The first part of it was spent futilely trying to sleep, for she knew that chances to rest would soon be few and far between, but found her mind buzzing with too many thoughts to relax. Instead she'd used the quiet hours before dawn to all but ransack her own house, gathering what provisions and equipment she thought she would need. She'd given more thought to this over the years than she wanted to admit, but her own paranoia had refused to settle until she'd stocked up on enough dry goods to last her the next ten years. The pile of stuff grew and shrank as she considered what she'd realistically be able to carry by herself, and it took a good while for her to convince herself that she'd have to rely on being able to resupply at the Safe Houses as she came across them.

The daylight hours saw Hope hitting the pavement. She tracked down a few people she knew from the construction team she'd worked for over the years, told them in vague terms that she was leaving and was unlikely to come back anytime soon.

"Hope, I know it hasn't been easy for you these past few years," her friend Jodie said desperately, "but whatever you're trying to do can't be worth it." Her concern coaxed a bittersweet smile from Hope's face. Jodie had been a chemical engineer before the apocalypse and had been the forerunner in local efforts to procure clean water. She'd also cobbled together a micro-brewery in her basement and let Hope be her taste-tester. They'd made out once while drunk on home-brewed beer, and though Jodie turned her down after that they'd remained close friends. Hope knew she'd never forgive herself if she left without telling her.

"You've gotta trust me on this," Hope told her. "Please believe me when I say I know what I'm doing. And I _will_ come back, okay? And when I do, things will be different." That, at least, was something she could promise; whether or not the Horsemen succeeded, things would be changing, for better or worse.

Jodie wrapped her up in a tight hug that she tried to savor. Friendly human contact was something else she'd be leaving behind. Later, as she passed Jodie's place on Despair's back she whispered to the crows to keep an eye on it, just in case.

After that she dropped by the nearest Swap Market loaded down with cans and boxes for bartering. With paper money now good only for lighting fires, it was the stuff of survival that drove a shaky economy. Hope wasn't overly fond of crowds, but there was something about the Swap Markets that was comforting. Here was a place that humanity thrived; voices and laughter and music from well-loved instruments were a loud reminder that people were still holding on.

Hope flitted between the stalls that filled the long-abandoned halls and store fronts of the defunct shopping mall and took it all in. Most hawked the necessities, food, clothing, medicine, while others offered the simple yet precious luxuries that had become so hard to find. One stall was filled end to end with stacks of books, though it was hard to tell just how many there were through the press of people all trying to talk to the clerk. Another spilled over with knit hats and scarves in bright colors and was manned by a woman diligently crocheting another stuffed animal to add the menagerie covering the table. Yet another was making a killing melting down coins and jewelry to make tools. Throughout it all wandered people from all walks of life, every age and race, carrying baskets and boxes and children and just trying to get by.

These were the people she was doing this for. This was the community she wanted to protect. With that in mind she could stride past the colorful displays and into one of the less frequented areas of the market that specialized in a different kind of survival. Most of her excess supplies she traded for things she would need; ammunition for her rifle, a pack of flares, a pair of sturdy boots, batteries of two different kinds, and a couple grenades. No one asked questions and Hope gave no answers.

As she made to leave, spoils bundled up in her arms, she stopped on a whim at the crocheting woman's stall and traded her last couple food cans for a red knit cap, just in case. The wool was scratchy, but the inside was lined and as she pulled it down over her ears she couldn't help but be reminded of the hats her mother would knit for her nearly every winter.

The memory perhaps made her last errand a little harder. Standing outside her parents' home, hand poised to knock, she wondered if this was really something she should subject them to. She'd been in a rough place for a while before she left home; haunted by nightmares and traumatic responses that made it hard for her to even go outside, let alone to talk about it. They knew the story up to a point, that she'd survived for a while after everyone else, but for everything after that... there was no way she could tell them more. Not about the angels, or the Rod, or the Crowfather, and certainly not about the Horsemen. Maybe one day, if they all survived, she could. Until then, the very least she owed them was a warning.

With that firmly in mind she took a breath and knocked on the door. The waiting dragged on long enough that she managed to half convince herself that no one is home and that she should leave before things got awkward. She turned, feeling her nerve giving out, but a series of arhythmic thumps from beyond the door made her pause. _Dad's home_ , she thought to herself even as the door opened to reveal a man, younger than the salt-and-pepper hair and the cane suggested, looking out with a bewildered smile.

"Hey kiddo. Long time, no see," he said.

Hope cracked a smile and let her father pull her into a one armed hug. "Hi Dad," she replied. "Mom around?"

"Just missed her. If you'd given us a little warning that you'd be coming she would have stuck around."

"Sorry," she said, following behind at a leisurely pace to keep up with his limping gait. "Would have given you word if I had the time."

"I'm guessing you've got something going on?" he asked, settling into the couch cushions with her beside him.

"Something like that, yeah."

"You actually going to let us in on it?"

Hope bit her lip.

"...Not this time dad. There are demons involved and I don't want you or mom getting hurt..." she trailed off, suddenly unwilling to look him in the eye. Her gaze wandered to her father's left leg, where the cuff of his jeans wasn't quite long enough to cover the ankle of his prosthetic. "...This isn't a battle that you should have to fight," she quietly added.

He was silent for a long time, and Hope knew without looking the stern expression he was giving her. "...You shouldn't have to either," he said eventually. She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept going. "Hope, I know that there's a part of you that feels like it needs to fight, because I probably gave it to you in the first place," he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, "but you don't _have_ to. Let the people with bigger guns be the ones to go around killing demons."

Hope stifled an amused snort. "I've got some friends with some _really_ big guns dad."

"So why do they need you?"

"Because they suck at most things that don't involve mass destruction," she answered, and this time the snort slipped out. She looked at her father and gave him a crooked smile. "They'll take good care of me dad, don't worry. I'm doing this because I _want_ to, and because I know that I can actually _do_ something this time."

He heaved a small sigh, but returned the smile. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?" He asked.

"No, not on this," she answered.

"Well when you get back- and you _are_ coming back, young lady, or so help me I will go out into the wasteland myself to come get you- you'll just have to make it up to me," he said with a playful nudge. "How about you introduce me and your mother to your friends with the big guns?"

The idea of the Horsemen meeting her parents was... a hard one to parse. How would something like that even go? She could only imagine it being incredibly awkward and ending with her father making an impulsive dad-joke. The thought made her insides squirm with preemptive embarrassment, and Hope gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah dad, we'll uh... we'll see about that."

"I'll hold you to that, kiddo." Slapping his knees, he got to his feet and Hope made to follow. "Now, is there anything you need before you go?"

"Just for you and mom to promise to keep your heads down," she said. "And maybe to spread the word too. Don't know if anyone will believe you, but it'd help if you tried."

"We'll make sure to sound the alarm," he replied before crossing his arms and giving her a look so filled with paternal concern that it sent Hope right back to when she was 6 years old and leaving for her first day of grade school. "But c'mon Hope, is there anything I can do for _you?_ "

She thought for just a moment before answering. "Well," she said, "there is one thing I'd like..."

The hours crept past, the sun setting and just beginning to rise again before finally Hope felt herself ready. In the soft light of dawn she shut off all of her lights, cast one last lingering glance around the little place she called home, and locked the door behind her. Pulling her father's army jacket tight around her body, she sat down on the steps of her porch and waited for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse to arrive.


	2. Chapter 2

Hope came to between War and a hard place. She groaned, shifting against the rock digging painfully into her back, blinking the dust and sweat from her eyes until the red and white and gray blur crouched over her resolved into the looming shape of the Horseman. Smoke curled from the edges of War's armor, cinders floating passed in the aftermath of the explosion that he'd taken the brunt of for her. His eyes were bright and blazing with irritation.

“Stay here,” he growled.

“Yessir,” Hope wheezed in reply. War snorted, straightening smoothly as though he hadn't just gotten blown up, and hauled himself out of the little crevice he'd thrown her into. From her narrow viewpoint she saw Chaoseater flash silver and then the air began to shriek with demonic screams.

Hope sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall behind her as she rubbed her eyes. A pounding had started up at the back of her skull and her neck and spine ached horribly from the rough handling. Already this wasn't going like she'd been hoping.

The demons had been waiting for them, because of-fucking-course they had been. They probably thought they'd had it perfectly planned out too, waiting until the Horsemen had been bottled up in the jagged twisting canyons before opening up with mortar cannons. If it hadn't been for War's quick reflexes Hope knew she'd be a collection of strewn body parts by now.

She knew that something like this would happen at some point, had in fact been prepared for it, but... it would've been nice if they'd waited until they'd gotten further than 20 goddamn miles outside the city. She already missed the feeling of being clean.

Hope sighed again, more frustrated than tired, and began to wriggle her way out of her narrow little hidey-hole. Peeking cautiously around the edge, she found that the skirmish was already over and that cleanup was underway with brutal efficiency. All that remained of the ambush was the artful splattering of crimson across the canyon walls and the slowly dissolving bodies covering the floor. Those that had had the sense to flee were being picked off almost lazily by Strife.

“Well, that was pathetic.” Hope turned as Fury came up to her hiding place, coiling her whip with sharp movements. “You'd think they would try a little harder than that.”

Hope, aching and covered in dust, glared up at her. Fury chuckled. “Apologies, Darling, but you will have to get used to it. No doubt we will be attacked many more times before this is over.” She held out a hand and helped Hope pull herself up.

“I know that,” she grumbled, brushing herself off as best she could. “I was just hoping they'd lay off for a little bit longer...”

“There was never a chance of that, you know,” Fury told her. “The moment my brothers and I arrived on Earth the demons and their masters became aware of our presence. Undoubtedly they will be tracking us every step of the way.”

“Oh, joy,” she replied in flat deadpan as she and Fury rejoined the others.

“Still in one piece, I see,” Death remarked. Hope suppressed a snarl.

“Shut up,” she growled, stalking past at a brisk pace that carried her quickly beyond the Horsemen. She didn't stop until she cleared the walls of the narrow canyon and, once she felt she had enough distance, finally let herself shake.

She'd been in life-threatening situations before; it had in fact been her perpetual state of being just five years ago. It didn't make it any easier to bear now, not when she could hear the faint echoes of long-ago screams beginning to crowd the inside of her head.

Hope closed her eyes and took deep breaths until her pulse stopped pounding in her ears. _Get used to it_ , she told herself, clenching her fingers to stop them trembling. _Just like Fury said. This is just the beginning._

“I don't suppose this means you'll be going home, does it?” she heard Strife say as he caught up with her. The brief flash of anger was enough to drive off the last of the shakes.

“Wouldn't _dream_ of it Strife,” Hope replied sweetly, her smile just a little too sharp around the edges. “I couldn't _bear_ disappointing you.”

“Oh, you're already doing that, trust me.”

“C'mon now, I know you don't mean that. I know in your bitter little heart you feel nothing but admiration for me.”

“No, I know this feeling. It is definitely disappointment.”

“Really Strife? Because that sounds an awful lot like you're projecting.”

“ _Children_ ,” Death cut in, “enough. Abyss' sake, you're both insufferable.”

“He started it,” Hope grumbled, falling into step behind the eldest Horseman.

“And you continued it,” he said. “Watch how you kick the hornet's nest, Little One. You might end up getting stung.”

“Yes 'Little One',” Strife said mockingly. “You really should learn how to quit while you're ahead.”

“Do not think this doesn't also apply to you, Strife,” Death warned him. “You are just as bad as she is.” Strife sneered but didn't reply, focusing his glare on Hope instead. She met it easily. If there was one thing she'd figured out about Strife in the time she'd known him was that he was mostly just talk, especially where the wishes of his brother were concerned. If Hope was being honest with herself, she probably took advantage of that fact more than she really should, but pissing him off had ended up being way too entertaining.

Still staring him down, Hope flipped him the bird and danced out of arms reach when he took a threatening step toward her. Death simply shook his head.

“Honestly, if we get to the end of this without the two of you murdering each other, it will be a miracle.” He said as he summoned Despair in a cloud of mist. “Well, perhaps if we manage to do that this insane venture will work out after all.”

“We've only been out here for like, four hours, Big Guy,” Hope said, letting Death pull her up into the saddle after him. “Can we please at least _pretend_ that this isn't a completely stupid idea? At least until we know whether or not it actually is?”

“Just being realistic, Little One,” he replied. “Perhaps if you behave yourself, I'll try to humor you.”

“Prick...” she muttered, shifting in the saddle to try and get comfortable. She didn't think she'd ever get the hang of riding horses, much less giant ethereal ones, which was sure to make this trip feel a lot longer than it already did. It beat walking though, that was for damn sure.

As they took off at a brisk pace across the wasteland, Hope took stock of herself. Uninjured, if a little bruised and dusty, though she was sure that wouldn't last long. The mental stuff she could... deal with. Knowing that she didn't have to worry about fighting for her life this time around helped; the Horsemen were here for that. Really the only thing she needed to concern herself with was being persuasive enough to convince the people in the Safehouses to leave. Granted, she wasn't exactly _good_ at talking to people, but she'd take that over facing demons any day.

“Penny for your thoughts, Little One?” Death asked.

“Hmm?” she hummed, train of thought derailed. “Oh. Just... thinking... about stuff. Or I guess trying _not_ to think about certain stuff. I've been trying to work on this whole 'staying positive' thing.”

“And how has that been working out for you?”

“Not bad but, you know, day's still young.”

“Your optimism is always so short lived.”

“Yeah, that's kind of how anxiety works, Big Guy.” Hope huffed out a sigh, thumping her head back against his chest. “If there's one thing I'm totally certain on its that I'm not gonna be certain about _any_ of this.”

“No one is ever truly certain about anything, Little One,” Death said, giving her a pat on the head. “Anyone who says otherwise is lying.”

Hope sniggered. “It's comforting knowing that I'm not the only one who's completely fucking clueless.”

Death answered with an amused snort. “Glad I could help.”

They lapsed into companionable silence, punctuated by the pounding of hooves in the dust.

“Hey D,” she said after some time, “You remember the last time and how awful that was?”

“Vividly,” he replied dryly. “Each and every time you complained has been burned irreparably into my memory.”

She elbowed him sharply in the ribs and didn't get so much as a flinch in return. “You're actually the worst,” she said. “Am I not allowed to get sentimental?”

“Sentimental about what exactly? I wouldn't exactly call what happened before a memory worthy of sentiment. Unless you're feeling nostalgic for all the demons?”

“What? No! That wasn't where I was going with this!” Hope snapped. “I was gonna say that this wasn't as bad, but you've already ruined the moment.”

“As you said before, the day is still young. This could easily get _much_ worse.”

Hope's shoulders slumped.

“Why?” she asked, defeated. “Why are you like this?”

“There are those that have been asking that for centuries, and no one has found the answer. Don't hold your breath Little One.”

Hope groaned. She'd honestly forgotten how fucking irritating the big guy could be. Maybe she _had_ gotten a little nostalgic. She leaned around him and shouted back at Fury. “Hey Fury! Let me ride with you, Death is being a dick!”

Fury's laughed from astride Scorn, the big thundercloud-dark steed snorting static from its nostrils. “Not this time Darling!” she called back. “You've dug this grave yourself! You should know better than to try and engage Death in a battle of wits.”

Death gave a dry chuckle as Hope scowled. Was it already too soon to regret coming along?

 

Hope had eventually bullied her way into riding with War.

Well, less bullied and more complained until War acquiesced just to get her to stop.

(“Abyss' sake, girl,” he growled at last, grabbing her by the back of the jacket and all but yanking her off Despair's back. “Get over here.”)

War had taken the lead and left Death to look on in baffled amusement at the sight of Hope perched high up on his brother's shoulders, the map unfurled in her hand and neck craning to look for landmarks.

War hadn't protested when she asked for a lift. He'd just silently held up his arm to let her step up and swing a leg around his shoulders. It was astonishing really, the sheer amount of patience War exhibited when dealing with Hope. Before those two had met Death had been certain that their personalities would have clashed catastrophically, but amazingly they had needed to say very little to form some kind of mutual respect. Death supposed it had something to do with how much this apocalypse had affected them both.

Hope had flicked on the radio clipped to the strap of her bag; Death could just about hear the soft buzz of white noise, drifting to him on the wind. She kept her head cocked, listening carefully to the static fluctuating with brief snatches of garbled speech. Giving War a gentle tap, she pointed him slightly west of their current course. As War nudged Ruin in that direction she fiddled with the radio knob, twisting it this and that to try and get better reception.

“We're getting close,” she reported, loud enough for the rest of them to hear. “I'd say ten or fifteen miles southwest of where we are. Terrain is blocking the radio frequency a bit, but we're close enough to pick up some chatter.”

“Have you thought at all about what you'll actually _say_ to these people once you find them?” Fury called to her.

“Uhhh... ssssort of,” Hope answered, sounding unsure. “Pretty sure telling the truth isn't going to get me too far. I can't imagine it going over too well if they knew I was traveling with all of you.” Hope stopped her a moment and furrowed her brow. “Actually, I'm not sure if people even know who you all are. Reports from anyone who's claimed to have seen you are vague and inconsistent at best. You're basically cryptids.”

“I don't suppose the mystique could give you any leverage?” Death drawled. Hope snorted out a short laugh.

“Not unless I want people to think I'm crazy. Or worse, think I'm working for the demons.” She sighed, folding up the map and sticking it back in her bag. “Someone _has_ to have seen the troop movements and know that something's up. I think the best I can do is tell them that a storm is coming and hope that someone has the sense to believe me.”

“And if they don't?” The question came from War. Blunt, as usual.

“Then we move on,” she solemnly replied, “and I try again somewhere else.” Her shoulders slumped just a little and she shook her head.

“Look,” she said, “I know that its stupid to think that I can save everyone. But I don't think I could forgive myself if I didn't at least try.”

“Little One, I quite literally sacrificed myself to bring back humanity,” Death pointedly reminded her. “If anything happens to make that sacrifice in vain I will be _very_ unhappy. Believe me when I say that we will do what we can to make sure you succeed.”

“Well, that doesn't make me feel pressured at all,” he heard her mumble. “I'll do my best Big Guy.”

Oh, she would certainly try. She was determined, of that there was no doubt. The question now was rather her best would be good enough.

 

They dropped her off about 200 yards from her destination, shadowed beneath one of the many jutting outcrops of rock to hide from the sentries looking out over walls made of concrete barricades and barbed-wire that surrounded the Safehouse.

“I shouldn't be tied up here for longer than a day,” she told them as War lowered her down from his saddle. “I'll send a crow when I'm ready for a pick-up. What are you gonna do in the meantime?”

“We will scout ahead and see if we can't find some trace of where these new citadels are being built,” Death replied. “The sooner we can locate and dispatch the new chain of command, the better. We will keep an eye out for your signal.”

“Right.” She fidgeted, pulling on the strap of her gun and, before she could change her mind, unsheathed her dagger and held it out hilt first toward Death. “Can you hold onto this for me? I don't think it'd go over too well if they found it on me.”

“Are you certain you wouldn't rather keep it with you?” he asked, taking the dagger from her.

She gave him a bit of an uneasy grin and waved him off. “It'll be fine,” she said. “You know I can get it if I need it, but hopefully I won't have to.”

“If you're sure,” he said, tucking the dagger into his belt. “If it ever disappears, I'll assume you're in trouble.”

“It'll be _fine_ ,” she insisted through clenched teeth. “Seriously, don't come looking for me. If I need your help I'll let you know, but _please_. This is gonna be hard enough as it is without the four of you storming the castle.”

Death let out a huff and looked desperately like he wanted to role his eyes. “You worry far too much. I personally have no desire to make enemies of the humans here. Though, I can't make any promises for the other.”

“Just-” Hope started, gesturing in frustration, “Keep cool, okay? It'll be fine.” God, she sounded as fucking clueless as she felt.

“It'll be fine,” she repeated, just to convince herself.

“Sweet Oblivion, just go already!” Strife growled. “We're burning daylight as it is.”

Death steadfastly ignored him. “Just watch yourself, Little One,” he said, wheeling Despair around to leave the way they'd come. “We will return soon.”

“Don't turn the entire human race against us while we're gone,” Strife tacked on as he turned to follow.

“I'd need you there for that, Strife,” she shot back, trudging in the opposite direction and flipped her hand in a farewell. “See you guys in a while.”

The sound of hooves receded behind her and Hope let out a breath. Thank god they had listened to her. The Horsemen had helped her feel safe out in the wastelands, but here, among her own people, they'd only cause more problems than they'd fix. This was something she had to handle on her own.

Taking another breath, she straightened out her jacket and stepped out from around the outcropping, preemptively putting up her hands up over her head. The moment she stepped out into the open she felt eyes on her.

“Halt!” A voice rang out from atop the wall. She looked up at the man perched behind the barbed wire, taking a bead on her with a long barreled rifle. She could feel several more watching her from concealed points along the wall. “What do you want? Where'd you come from?”

“Up north,” she answered immediately. “Other side of the New York Barricades. I've got a message for whoever's in charge here.”

“You armed?” he asked, not moving so much as an inch at her statement.

“Yes,” she replied, slipping the hunting rifle off her shoulder and holding it at arm's length by the strap. “I'm willing to hand it over if you need me to.”

The guard was silent for a moment, but eventually lowered his weapon and shouted over his shoulder to open the gates.

Hope flinched at the loud crunching, grinding cacophony of the giant slabs of concrete being dragged across the asphalt, opening just enough to let her squeeze through. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

She shot a split second glance over her shoulder, half hoping and half dreading to find the Horsemen there. There was no one, of course. She wasn't quite sure how that made her feel. With one more breath she steeled her nerves and slid through the gate.

The Safehouse hunkered down ahead of her. It looked like it might have once been a public high, but every window was boarded over and the doors reinforced with sheets of steel. On this side of the gate she could make out half a dozen armed guards perched on wooden scaffolding that ran the length of the wall, keeping an eye on the many shadowed crevices that surrounded them. It reminded her uncomfortably of a prison, but she supposed that was just the way it had to be. Keep the people in, keep the demons out.

The guard that had let her in descended from the scaffolds and jogged up to her.

“Sorry for the hostilities there, miss,” he said, sounding a bit bemused as he gave her a quick once-over. “We're not used to people showing up by themselves. And normally they're heading _for_ the Barricades, not away from them.”

“It's fine,” she assured him, handing over her rifle. She hated the thought of going without it, but she wasn't here to make enemies. “I know you're just being careful. Honestly I would've been disappointed if you _weren't_ suspicious.”

“Appreciate the understanding miss,” he said, shouldering her weapon and extending a hand for her to shake. “Jefferey Garten. I handle security detail here in Morgantown.”

“Hope Hopkins,” she replied, taking the offered hand and giving it as firm a shake as she could. Garten seemed like an okay guy, though she could tell that he was a little thrown off by her. In his mind he was probably trying to imagine a tiny woman single-handedly armed with only a gun fighting her way through a demon-infested wasteland. She wasn't about to correct him.

“The person you're looking for is Caroline Bush. She's the Safehouse coordinator,” Garten informed her as he led her past the barricades surrounding the front doors. “You want shit to get done around here, you go through her first.”

As he ushered her inside Hope was struck by how quiet it was. There were lots of people, more than she'd been expecting, but they all spoke in hushed tones, huddled together in tight knit groups. Those closest to the doors fell silent as Garten entered with Hope in tow, stiffening for just a moment in fear before they realized who it was. She knew the feeling.

“Anything I should know before I go talk to her?” Hope asked.

“Not really,” he said. “Just try not to piss her off too much. She's fair when she wants to be, but she doesn't take shit from anyone.”

“Noted,” she said quietly. She felt more eyes on her and now she could feel the nerves she'd been keeping at bay coming back with a vengeance. Too late to back out now though.

Time to play diplomat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuugh, so much dialogue. Honestly feeling a little bad about the long wait just to give you all a fuck-ton of dialogue, but I've been sitting on this chapter for way too long and I figured that I just needed to get it out there so I can stop worrying about it so much and maybe move on to things that will be more interesting. Not as though I'll be coming back to this chapter another hundred times to change it, but you know, that's just kind of how it goes. There's plenty of fun to be had later on, I promise.
> 
> But hey, remember guys, writing is hard. Every little bit of support I come from people reading this stuff is what fuels me, so please feed your local writer with the sweet nectar that is Kudos and Comments. You guys keep me going ^_^.
> 
> ALSO I'm still in the market for a Beta reader, or even just someone to bounce ideas off of to make this whole process a little easier. Please. I'm so lonely. None of my friends know what I'm talking about.


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